A song inside my head, a demon in my bed
by JackValentine
Summary: A lil PWP sketch inspired by a literal piece of art by the one and only, almighty Gorlassar!


**TITLE:** A song inside my head, a demon in my bed

 **AUTHOR:** JackValentine

 **BETA:** deluge

 **PAIRING:** Bobby Singer/Crowley

 **RATING:** NC-17

 **GENRE:** PWP, fluff

 **SIZE:** Mini

 **WARNINGS:** None

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** A lil PWP sketch inspired by a literal piece of art by the one and only, almighty Gorlassar!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything and seek nothing.

"Where's that hand going, Singer?" - wondered Crowley idly.

Bobby just hummed some sort of a simple familiar melody in response. His arm had already crossed the back of the demon, who was laying there naked on his side facing him, his breath still a bit ragged. Singer's hand was indeed traveling down the heated body, until the moment that Bobby finally reached what he was going for, slightly spreading Crowley's soft buttocks, his finger on the rim of his hole, massaging and traveling around it in circles. It was still relaxed and malleable, not having tightened back up fully just yet. So the hunter pushed forward and slipped a finger in.

Crowley just let out a low "ah", his voice still hoarse and his knees still weak after riding Bobby like a confirmed cowboy for at least half an hour. The demon didn't seem too enthusiastic about Singer's feeble efforts, but Bobby was oh so far from having fulfilled his plan. He pushed his finger deeper in, kneading it in, searching for, seemingly, the only weakness that his demonic lover had. Suddenly, the hunter felt the tight rim of muscles contract slightly around him and ease off again. Bobby knew it was that. It was just that Crowley didn't want to show it, just for spite. Bobby smirked. The demon didn't quite realize yet, but it was the moment that Singer won this little game.

Still keeping it slow and postponing the oh so sweet, sweet, arousing, mind-blowing torture that he was going to put the sassy demon through. He kept his finger on the same spot and started massaging it firmly and slowly, back and forth, back and forth. He was to gradually frazzle Crowley out at that stage. Meanwhile, Crowley's breath got deeper and heavier, turning into low, lingering sighs. He obviously couldn't contain himself as well anymore, but Bobby was uncompromising. The demon was sweating and straining his legs, in hollow attemps to appease this viscous, inexorable slow pleasure. In a couple of pushes of Singer's finger it seemed like Crowley had almost adjusted, keeping his breath even and calm, but his perky hard cock swollen with arousal was giving him away neck and crop. Still, he wasn't willing to surrender, holding it together desperately.

And at that exact point, Bobby knew it was time. He grinned in delight a split second before he released the pressure of his finger on Crowley's sweet spot, just to start massaging it at the highest pace humanely possible, pressing hard and stroking deep in circular motions, not pounding, but intricately teasing, fondling and beating it off. The demon's eyes burst open.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh" - he moaned so loudly and wholeheartedly, even Bobby didn't expect such effect.

Crowley kept groaning at the top of his all, those were moans of a man (or, well, a demon) struck by an unbearable mixture of sensations, of feeling good, so good, that it was almost too good. Crowley fidgeted and tried to push himself away from the hunter, but Bobby's arm was holding the demon in place, crossing his back dioganally all the way down to his rear. Crowley was tossing and flailing, unable to find a way to escape this excruciating pleasure. He wanted to scream for Singer to stop, but instead he heard his voice yell:

"More, more, more, please..."

As if Bobby was anywhere near stopping. Not at all. He was steady at it, watching Crowley's face closely, this angry with his own defenselessness look, the look of pleasure that makes you cry.

"Oh... Aaah!.. Fuck, Singer..." - moaned the demon before his whole body strained in the final spasm.

"I hate you", - he hissed, tightening his white-knuckle grasp on Bobby's shoulders, leaving bruises under his fingertips, before his juiced up cock eased off, cuming in one single plash.

Content, the hunter slipped his finger out. He rose up a tad, leaning on his elbow, observing the sweating, panting, defeated demon, wet strands of hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes shut, his lips open gasping for air.

"Looks like you ruined my sheets, Crowley", - said Bobby in a tenderheartedly tongue-in-cheek tone, before the vanquished grabbed on the back of Singer's head with his both palms and pulled him in for a wet, gadarene kiss.


End file.
